


Ordinary Lunacy

by SilverBird13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone's confused boner, Faverolles Era, I completely agree with Javert in this chapter, I'm determined to make that a tag, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pastoral Comedy, Sad Baby Valjean, Upstart Javert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Truly, Valjean thinks as he finishes hacking away an errant branch, courting seemed rather overrated.  A laugh emanates from the sky above him, and Valjean amends his thought.  </p><p>Courting a woman seemed rather overrated."</p><p>Or, Valvert as a pastoral comedy told in a series of vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crépuscule

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be a bit of an experiment for me. I haven't done a traditional chapter-by-chapter work in years, and I'm unsure if I'm going to keep this as a series of vignettes or have it tell a perfectly linear story. I'm open to suggestions and welcome any feedback.

Throughout his twenty years, Valjean has seen dozens of courtships between men and women take place, writ in gathered flowers and fevered laughs. But for all his secondhand experience with such rituals, he has never fostered a desire for one. Jeanne has teased him for years, chiding him and saying that he’s had many a maid show her interest, but Valjean doubts her claims. Why would a woman ask him to carry her basket as an act of flirtation when Luc frequently requests the same? Why does Jeanne nudge him and wink any time Catherine lowers her blouse when Jeanne herself often bares hers fully to nurse Petit Luc? He finds the young women of Faverolles kind and many rather pretty, but he feels no desire to present flowers to any save for his baby niece.

Truly, Valjean thinks as he finishes hacking away an errant branch, courting seemed rather overrated. A laugh emanates from the sky above him, and Valjean amends his thought.

Courting a _woman_ seemed rather overrated.

Valjean looks up as he tosses the branch aside, shading his eyes both from the sun and from the shine of Henri’s golden hair. The other youth is busy pruning the very top branches, demonstrating how he has earned the nickname _écureuil_ among the laborers. He catches Valjean’s eye and grins. Disarmed, Valjean attempts an equally brilliant smile in response, though he fears Henri will take it for an ugly grimace.

“Jean! Who is she?” he calls as the foreman rings the bell signaling the end of their workday. He laughs at the other man’s puzzled expression, slipping down from the tree and landing inches from Valjean. Their proximity further flusters Valjean, and it is all he can do to drop his head in a bashful nod.

“Ah, Jean! I knew it had to be a girl!” Henri slaps him on the back, and Valjean feels his belly tighten in a strange, familiar excitement. “Now tell me! What’s the lady’s name?”

“Henri, I…it’s not a woman.”

Henri’s face lights up. “Then what is _it_ , my friend? Where can I get this thing that has you smiling even at the end of the day?”

Valjean feels a surge of bravery and hope in his chest. “Henri, it’s-“ he begins before he is cut off by a swirl of skirts and a squealing giggle. Valjean feels his voice shrivel, his stomach drop.

 _Yes_ , Valjean thinks, turning away sullenly from the pair with burning eyes, _courtship is foolish_.


	2. Solitaire

Many would believe that prison was the height of Hell on Earth. Javert, however, knew better.

Travel was the worst thing Man had invented.

“Beautiful country, isn’t it?” the old man says as Javert, once again, heaves whatever is left in his belly over the edge of the cart. The farmer pats him on the back and laughs as Javert’s brain screams.

“Don’t worry, young man. No more journeys once you get settled. You’re here to help Beaulieu and Lavoie, right?”

Javert manages what could be considered a noise of assent.

“Well, stay out of Lafeyette’s and I at least won’t be any trouble!” The man seems to take Javert’s green face and shaking arms for nervousness, and he pats his back again as they ride through a jumble of stout houses, the daylight dying quickly behind them. “No real trouble here. Should be a vacation after Toulon!”  The cart mercifully stops outside of one of the nondescript buildings, and Javert swings himself onto the ground, careening like a drunkard as he grabs his bag.

“See you around, my boy!”

Javert coughs, his wheezing muffling his retort of “Inspector Javert, Monsieur!” as the cart drives off and he is left to face the humble darkness and whatever fools Beaulieu and Lavoie happen to be.

*************

Valjean is numb as he makes his way home, chiding himself for his fancy. Henri, one of _those_ sorts? No, Valjean thinks, no one in Faverolles is  _that_ sort except for him, nor should they be. He is wrong, he is a blight, and he must not think such thoughts again.

“There you are!” Jeanne says, swinging Petit Luc onto her hip and out of the way of Valjean’s shuffling feet. “Thought you’d stopped at Lafayette’s with that one.” She nods her head over to the corner, where Luc sits with Jeanette in her basket, nursing a mug of ale.

Luc snorts. “Don’t give the boy ideas. We need all the money he makes more than Lafeyette, the way he eats.”

Valjean looks away, sitting down beside Luc, who rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. “I didn’t mean it, Jean. You’re a hard worker, you know that. You can join me and Etienne any time you want. Get your mind off the chill and have you meet some girls, won’t we?”  Jeanne huffs something unintelligible from across the room and Luc laughs in response. Valjean looks away, longing filling his throat.

“Heard there’s going to be a dance this Saturday in the square.” Jeanne says, turning back to the table with raised eyebrows. “A much more respectable place for my baby brother to meet his wife, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you say, Mama,” Luc intones, earning him a kiss on the cheek. The pot bubbles, and Jeanne rushes to stir it while Luc looks down at his daughter with a soft smile. Yes, Valjean thinks. How wrong he ever was to imagine Henri would not dream of this.


End file.
